


Invested

by gwyneth rhys (gwyneth)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Double Dating, Established Relationship, First Dates, Fluff, Implied Relationships, Multi, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:43:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyneth/pseuds/gwyneth%20rhys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha convinces Steve to ask Sam on a double date. Meanwhile, Clint doesn't understand why these things happen to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invested

“Wait, what?” Clint Barton asked Natasha Romanov as he loosed another arrow. 

“A date. A double date with both of them.” He watched one of the Hydra guys fall and scanned the area to make sure that was the last of them. 

“With Captain America and the...falcon...guy.” 

Natasha crouched, turned slightly, and made a magnificent under the arm shot to take down a guy coming up on his six. He gave her a nod of thanks. 

“Sam,” she said, obviously cross with him for being unable to remember all the names of people he’d either just met or heard about a couple of hours ago in one big intel dump. “His name is Sam Wilson. I think it would be sweet.” She holstered her gun. “One of the worst things about SHIELD being in shambles? No one to call for housekeeping.” She poked at one of the bodies with her toe. “I guess we’ll have to mop up ourselves.” She put her hand to her ear. “Cap, you and Sam about done up there?” They didn’t hear an answer--probably still busy.

“Leave it for the FBI. They’ll be here eventually. And it’s a lot to take in, you know? Not only is there a new guy on the team, and Cap’s best friend is back from the dead and gunning for him, but now you’re trying to fix him up with someone. A guy.” Sometimes he thought she should get a cat or something.

“Well, it’s not new. If you’d have listened to me before you left for Istanbul, you’d know I was trying to get him out more. Date someone, stop being so lonely. I thought he was just pining for Agent Carter, who, incidentally, I did not realize had been sweeties with Rogers. But I saw a picture of her and the way he reacted when I asked him about it... Anyway. She was pretty badass; it’s too bad they never had a chance to fight together.” No, maybe it should be a couple of rescue pitbulls.

“Yeah, I know.” Clint reached into his pocket for the keys. He said over comms, “Cap, what’s your twenty? You need help?”

A very winded Steve Rogers replied, “We’re up on the roof. Down to you in ten.” With a gust of air and a sudden whoop, Falcon...Sam swept by, depositing a more-than-a-little-ruffled-looking Steve Rogers. “Or sooner,” Rogers said, shrugging and smiling. Sam alighted next to him, grinning and pulling up his goggles. His wings folded up. That was going to take Clint some time to get used to. Repulsors and rockets he got; actual wings was a whole other thing.

“How’s your bad guys?” Natasha asked. 

“Fork ready,” Sam replied. He seemed perfectly at home with Natasha and Steve, as if they’d worked together for years. End of the world scenarios did tend to do that to you, though. They’d been through a lot together already, and had a lot more in store. Especially if Natasha planned to keep sticking her nose in their love lives.

Five black SUVs, lights flashing, pulled up with a shriek of tires, sunglasses-clad agents pouring out and reaching for weapons. “I’ll handle it,” Rogers said, hoisting his shield. It definitely helped, when they were all dressed in plainclothes, to have Cap and his shield around.

As Rogers started toward them, Natasha put her hand up to the side of her face and ducked her chin down to hide her mouth, saying to him, sotto voce, “Did you do the thing?”

A strange, frightened look swept over Rogers’s face, kind of like a nervous kid being caught out in a fib. “I think the thing can wait till later. When there aren’t any Hydra operatives attacking us.” He moved past her and identified himself loudly to the agents. The three of them watched him talk, standing around idly, pretending there wasn’t a pile of bodies lying around.

A few minutes later, Cap motioned for them to go. Natasha cocked an eyebrow at him and twitched her head sideways. Oh God, now they had secret eyebrow signals. Steve Rogers was pretty much doomed. Clint hoped he realized that.

As they got in their own SUV, Clint sighed with pained resignation. “OK, I’ll bite. What’s the thing?”

“Asking Sam out.” She combed her fingers through her hair and dusted off her metallic blue leather jacket. That was Clint’s favorite jacket on her, he loved the way it both hugged her curves but left so much still to the imagination. It had been a long twenty-four hours, and he was itching to get back to his apartment -- did he still have an apartment? Did any of them have anything left? -- and take it off her. “He’s _really_ excited about trying Thai food.”

“I have a lot to catch up on, don’t I?” Clint moaned. Other people’s personal lives were his least favorite thing in the world, after eating pickled beets and bathing cats.

“I thought he was so resistant to dates because he was just so overwhelmed by social protocols in the 21st century, you know? And then I thought it was because of Peggy. But it turns out he was pining for someone else entirely and then the lightbulb went off. He was spending a lot of time with Sam, so I thought, well, you know.” She shrugged and gave him a wry smile. Sometimes it was hard to fathom what was behind her smiles, especially when the smile didn’t reach her eyes, but this was not one of those times. Maybe if SHIELD was operative, she wouldn’t be inclined toward playing yenta.

He turned a corner, got on the overpass and headed for the highway. “I think it’s entirely possible you might be too invested in this.”

Leaning her head back and sinking in to the seat, she closed her eyes and said, “Come on. It’ll be fun. When was the last time you had a double date?”

That was kind of the problem. Clint had never had a double date in his life. “Do I have to make small talk?”

 

“That went well,” Sam said as they got in the car. He’d had to buy a whole new car after Bucky had ripped his old one to pieces, which Steve had felt so bad about, but getting the government to pay for it at least made the purchase a lot easier--especially what Sam had told him was as sweet a ride as a Lexus SUV. In champagne gold, no less. In Steve’s day, eight out of ten cars were black or gray. 

Steve sighed. He’d heard a lot of bad things about the FBI, but so far, he hadn’t seen it. “They’re doing a pretty good job of ferreting out Hydra. And I think they recognize us as their own now. We’re all on the same very small, very dedicated team and they know me now.” He laughed, remembering something he’d heard. “Membership has its privileges.”

“You did not just say that! Look at you, quoting the commercials and the movies and shit now. You’ll be ready for Jeopardy pretty soon.” 

Steve glanced over at him, puzzled. 

“Oh, you haven’t discovered TV game shows yet?”

“I don’t know. I guess there are other things I’m still trying to find time for.”

“Yeah, your list is getting pretty long,” Sam noted. Considering everything Sam had given him to put on it, that was an understatement. They were heading back to his apartment, where Steve had stayed since their world had turned upside down. 

Natasha had said they would want to move up to New York soon, to the quarters Stark had recently finished building for them in his tower. They’d seen the space when they’d gone up to have him figure out a way to remake Sam’s wings. Steve had figured it would take a month or more; instead Stark had done it in one day, and the new wings were pretty spectacular, according to Sam. It seemed like the two fellows had hit it off, too. 

He’d have to ask Stark if there was room for one more. 

Plucking up some courage, Steve cleared his throat, dropped his head forward and picked at his nails. “So, uh, Natasha and I were talking, and now that Barton is back--“

“Yeah, man, what’s up with that? We could have used him a few weeks ago!” Sam gestured at a driver who cut him off.

“He’d gone dark. Over in Eastern Europe, I guess, or the Middle East? I don’t remember, but he was basically radio silence.”

“I don’t know if I wanna know what he does.”

Steve raised his head. He used to think of that sort of thing as separate from what he was willing to do, the kind of fighting he had done. But it wasn’t that different, not really. And they were the kinds of things Bucky’d done too – his job had usually been the dirtier work. The kinds of things that would have made him a prime candidate to be a Hydra asset. “He and Natasha do a lot of work together.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Oh, is that so?”

At first Steve meant to protest, but then he reconsidered. “Well, yes, that too.” He cleared his throat again. “And she was thinking that since she and Clint were probably going out now that he’s come home that maybe we could...uh...we could go with them. To dinner. Or something.”

Whipping the car into a Load/Unload Only spot on the side of the street, Sam put it in park and turned to him, smirking, his eyes sparkling. “Are you asking me out?”

“Well, uh, you know...yes. I guess I am. If you want to go. Unless I’ve misinterpreted things, which is entirely possible since I am not, as everyone likes to point out, the most worldly guy. In which case I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.” He turned his gaze out the window, waiting, the hollowness in the pit of his stomach making him squirm.

“Naw, man, I thought you’d never ask.” Sam laughed, the sound bouncing around the car. He had a really, really great laugh.

Steve turned to him, his eyes wide. “Really? You’re okay with that?”

“Well, yeah. If you are. I mean, not gonna lie, I wasn’t sure you’d be down with that sort of thing...you know, coming from the world you came from.”

“You’d be surprised about my world. I know everyone thinks that people from that time were always conservative and prudish, but even back then, the area I grew up in was not like most neighborhoods.” He coughed. “And I’m...not like most fellows.”

“No, no, you’re not.” Sam glanced down at the dashboard, then back at him. “So when we going?”

“Tomorrow night? We’re going to have Thai food!” It came out a little more enthusiastically than he’d meant, but he was still twitchy as hell and stumbling around like an idiot.

“All right, Thai food. That’s good. Knocking another one down off your list.” Then Sam broke out into a laughing fit, resulting in a rapid blush spreading up Steve’s neck and face.

Sam made fists and moved his arms around and around in front of him in what Steve could only surmise was a victory dance, and sang, “I’m going on a daa-aaate, with Captain Ah-meri-caaaaa.”

Closing his eyes and attempting to hide a smile, Steve wiped his hand down along his face and asked, “Can we just go home now?”

Sam cackled with glee and put the car in gear.

 

 _Poke. Poke poke._ Something sharp jabbed his ass and then a voice, Nat’s voice, said, “Barton. Barton, wake up. Jesus.” She said something else that sounded like “zhopah,” but he still hadn’t bothered to learn more Russian than it took to order in a restaurant.

What was she poking his ass with? He raised his face from the pillow and turned to see her holding an arrow. “How long have I been sleeping?” 

She feigned looking at a watch, knelt down beside him, and purred, “Over 13 hours.” At least she was still happy from the night before. 

“Huh.” He rubbed his eyes.

“We have to meet Steve and Sam in a couple hours. Get up and get ready.” As she spoke, she ran her hands down his back, fingernails lightly scratching his skin and raising goosebumps. He rolled over so she could do it to his front, too.

“So we’re really doing this.” He’d hoped it was all just a terrible dream.

“Have you ever known me to prank anyone?” He ran his fingers through her hair and pulled her down for a kiss. It had been a long time since he’d had the luxury of such a deep sleep. And after the past few days, he’d needed it. With SHIELD, it didn’t always matter what you needed, you got what you got, and sleep wasn’t usually one of the things you got. If being able to sleep over half a day away was the result of SHIELD’s dismantling, though, he’d have preferred to go without.

“There’s a first for everything.”

“Why are you so reluctant to go out with them? Is this some kind of uncharacteristic latent homophobia?” She jabbed him again, this time with her finger. 

“Of course not. It’s just hard to deal with the fact that you’re not simply trying to fix up Captain America, but you’re fixing him up with some guy we just met and we’re...pretending to be normal people who go on dates.” He wasn’t sure that would make it any better. “When have we ever been the kind of people who go on dates?”

She lay back on the bed and stretched. “I don’t know what it is about him, but I want him to be happy. As happy as he can be in this world. Even before he saved my life, I just wanted something good for him. Waking up decades after you thought you’d died, losing everyone you knew, your closest lifelong friend dying in front of you...it makes me want to do something for him.” He wondered how long she’d been badgering Rogers to ask someone out.

“Sam seems like a good guy.” He grabbed the water off the nightstand, gulped it down, and choked. “Gah. That’s straight vodka!”

“He is. Now get up and I’ll tell you the rest of what happened while you were away. We never really finished our conversation last night.”

He attempted to rise, but every muscle in his back screamed at him and he flopped back. “No, I guess we didn’t. My back is proof of that.”

“You’re getting old, Barton. That shouldn’t do you in.”

“The things you do would do _anyone_ in.”

“It’s difficult not to want to ride you like a pony when I haven’t seen you in ages.” She smiled with a kind of malicious cheer. “Get going or I’ll set the bed on fire.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He didn’t doubt the threat. He’d seen her do that before.

 

Steve put his new clothes on and stepped into the living room. Sam looked up from his coffee and sputtered. “It’s not good?” Steve asked.

“Naw, man, you look like a keytar player in a seventies rock band. That is not a good outfit.”

He’d tried to step outside his comfort zone of dressing like he always had, but apparently the clothes he’d picked up that day -- trying to follow the sort of thing Natasha had put him in when they were playing at incognito -- weren’t quite what he needed. He put his hands up. “I have no idea what that means, but I can tell it’s bad.” Sam, on the other hand, looked fantastic, wearing a loose white sweater with the sleeves pushed up, and black trousers that hugged his backside quite well.

“Not bad, but it’s just not right. The classics look good on you. Stick to the classics.”

Steve went back to the guest room and stripped almost everything off. It was weird, right now, living in the same space as Sam and yet planning a date. He wasn’t entirely sure how to act and had tried to avoid Sam as much as possible, but fortunately Sam always had the same breezy personality, no matter what the circumstances. He buttoned a new shirt, put on his chinos, and laced up the boots that he usually wore. 

This time, Sam gave him an approving look, nodding his head and going “mmm-HMMM.” The confirmation left Steve oddly proud.

“Take the car, or the bike?” He pulled his leather jacket on, while Sam grabbed keys, then shook them at him, taking one last sip of his coffee.

“Easier to get the valet to park for us around that part of town.”

That was still something Steve had to get used to, the idea of valet parking at even the most casual of places; heck, they even had valet parking at malls and things. Only rich people ever did that when he was young, and only at the poshest of places.

They rode to the restaurant -- not that long of a drive, really, and pretty close to Steve’s destroyed apartment -- in silence, and he couldn’t help thinking that Sam felt as awkward as he did right now. It wasn’t like Sam ever appeared anxious or dour, even at the VA, but he wore a look that wasn’t the typical Sam face. Funny how quickly Steve had gotten to know Sam’s moods.

Clint and Natasha were already waiting for them inside the door, and she greeted them with a kiss to both cheeks; Clint merely nodded at them in typical guy style. Some things never changed. The restaurant was beautiful, to Steve’s eyes, but none of them appeared to notice, as if they took the soft burbling of the fountain, the elegant gold-toned reed wallpaper, the exotic ornamentation, and the plush chairs for granted. On each table was a huge orchid blossom; they passed by the main area into a small alcove off the side, with its own little waterfall and more orchids everywhere. 

After being seated, Natasha said, “I called ahead and asked them to seat us somewhere as private as possible. I imagine dinner out when you’re Captain America must be quite the little challenge. Autograph hounds, fans whose lives you’ve changed, old guys who remember you from the war...” 

He was growing used to her gentle teasing. “It can be...surprising,” Steve said. “But now I’m not the only famous one.”

She twitched her head sideways. “Well, we weren’t exactly unknown after New York, but it’ll be a lot worse from here on out. How does it feel to be famous?” she asked Sam. “And all that golden light from Rogers spilling over you?”

Shaking his head and grinning, Sam replied, “Things have been different at the VA, that’s for sure. It’s going to take some time, but we keep throwing down on those bad guys, I’ll have to figure out just what I’m going to do for a day job.”

“Doesn’t help, SHIELD being out of commission,” Clint said to Steve, whom he was sitting across from. “You’ll really want to try Thai iced tea. Star anise is great, you might enjoy the flavor.”

“Noted,” Steve said, looking at the menu. It was a jumble of foreign words, filled with descriptions of things he’d never imagined putting together in one dish. And yet somehow it sounded kind of delicious. He glanced sideways at Sam, who studied the menu with great concentration.

“I almost don’t know what to order -- it all sounds great, but I wonder what’s safest for the noob here.” He turned to Steve. “You ever eaten seriously spicy food before?” He was probably remembering Steve’s comment about boiling everything. 

“I’ve been trying things out. Getting used to it. But you know me. I can handle anything you throw at me.”

Natasha pursed her lips and admonished Sam, “I think you should keep it two stars or under.” She ordered a bottle of wine while they scanned the menus, and when it was poured, she raised her glass. “To new friends and new experiences. Also, I declare a moratorium tonight on talking about work.” They clinked glasses, and Steve finally felt like he could relax his shoulders and settle back. Breathe.

Clint ordered for them, speaking Thai to the waiter, and Steve was more impressed with him than he’d already been.

He was among friends now, and that was really all that mattered.

 

“And I mean how the hell do you watch _War Games before_ you watch _Star Trek_ or _Star Wars_. How does that even happen?” Sam exclaimed, balling up some sticky rice in his fingers and rolling it around in the last of the choo chee pla. 

“I know! When I found out those were still on his list, I couldn’t believe it. You really need to work on the remedial cultural references while he’s staying with you. Once he gets back on his own, he’ll be listening to forties records and watching old newsreels on YouTube again.”

Clint just kept drinking his wine and listening to them pile on Rogers, who was such a good-natured guy that he merely smiled the whole time. Though Clint wasn’t tempted to join in the teasing; that was a little too personal for him, and anyway, dining out and joking around seemed like a ridiculous way to spend time, what with their whole world crumbling around them. He was genuinely surprised at how much fun Natasha seemed to be having socializing, though. Maybe instead of getting a cat or a dog, she should join a book club.

His eyes were beginning to ache from all the rolling. There wasn’t a hell of a lot he wouldn’t do for Natasha; now, at least, he knew what one of those things actually was. 

Yet in a curious way, he enjoyed seeing this side of her, a genuine face she had rarely shown anyone. Natasha had never had opportunity or room in her life for friendships, for that kind of familial quality being connected to more people allowed, and her eyes sparkled with the pleasure of it all. She was more beautiful tonight than normal, her hair in loose waves, wearing a green shirt and dark jeans, relaxed and easy.

And it was good to see Rogers relaxing, the easy camaraderie he had with Wilson -- surprising when you took into account the fact that they were on a date. Clint could see Wilson being a valuable team member, not just for his skills with the wings but because Rogers so clearly trusted him.

Rogers spoke up, noting, “Clint, you’ve said barely a word tonight. Don’t you have something to weigh in on regarding my modern education?”

“No sir, Captain. I keep my opinions to myself on that topic.” For some reason that made both Natasha and Wilson laugh. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he noticed Natasha stiffen. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I think, but one of the kitchen guys has been coming out and peering over here.” 

“I noticed that too,” Rogers said. “Check it out?”

She nodded and put her hand on Clint’s shoulder. “Back in a sec.”

They went toward the kitchen and he shifted in his seat, suddenly left alone with Wilson and uncomfortable without the yenta buffer. He moved his wine glass around and around on the table, then said, “So, I heard you were putting the moves on Natasha.”

Sam sputtered, spitting his water, which prompted a grin from Clint. That was maybe a little too much fun. It took Sam a few seconds to regain his composure. “Hey, I’m sorry, man. Just, you know...kinda hard not to flirt with her. She is _very_ sexy. But I didn’t know she was spoken for.” 

“She’s not. Natasha is spoken for by no man. Or woman. That’s the first rule of a relationship with her -- she does whatever she wants to with whoever she wants to do it with.”

Nodding and grinning, Sam said, “A’ight. What’s the second rule?”

“You do not talk about Fight Club.”

“I’ll bet.” He drank his iced tea. “We should add that to Steve’s list. Though, I don’t know, maybe it’s a little too...‘modern life is bullshit’ for him right now. All things considered.”

As if that was their cue, the two returned, Natasha shaking her head and saying, “Just a fan.”

“Add what to my list?” Rogers asked. 

Clint rolled his eyes again. “Another movie they think you should see. They won’t stop until we leave,” he warned. Natasha was going to have to do a lot of things to make up for this evening. A _lot_.

“So, who has room for dessert?” she said sweetly, kicking him under the table.

 

When they returned home to Sam’s place, Sam put the leftovers -- really just the dessert of mangoes and sticky rice they’d had to order for takeout, since no one had had any room left -- in the fridge and checked messages on his phone. For some reason, Steve found it comforting that Sam, unlike almost everyone else, still had a landline, as they called non-mobile telephones now. Not that he knew that many people.

“That was fun,” Steve said, though the awkwardness of coming back from a date to the house he was living in with someone left him jittery and tense. He’d never had the chance to actually go on dates before the change, but he’d seen enough with Bucky to know that first dates were usually just the testing ground.

“Yeah, it was. Nice getting to know Barton a little, even if he never really talked much. Didn’t have that much of a chance to meet him, what with getting attacked by Hydra after picking him up at the airport.” Sam threw his coat on the back of the couch. “I couldn’t tell if he didn’t like me or was just studying me to reserve judgment till later.”

“He’s a good guy. He was probably just trying to get a sense of everything that happened while he was away.” Steve hung his jacket up and stood by the couch, his discomfort probably rolling off him in waves. He pushed his sleeves up, trying to act nonchalant.

Sam came toward him, slowly, the way you approach a skittish dog, saying, “You haven’t been on many dates, have you?”

“Well, no, considering I was a scrawny, sickly kid and then when I wasn’t, I was fighting a war. I had a date lined up with someone, but then I...sort of died.” Now he _felt_ like a skittish dog. “I mean, there were a few times things happened with the USO girls, but it wasn’t like things would happen these days.”

Sam reached out and put his hand on Steve’s shoulder. It was very warm in the room all of a sudden. “And you never had one with a guy before.”

Steve swallowed. “Well, that’s a bit more complicated. I never had a _date_ , but there’s a little more to my friendship with Bucky than you might think.” This was one of the things about going out that he’d been most afraid of: having to explain his level of experience, having to offer up details of his life he’d never really had the chance to figure out himself.

“Oh, oh, oh. You are full of surprises. I never would have thought, being the old-fashioned straight-up guy you are.” But Sam was laughing when he said it.

“Let’s just say that the area of Brooklyn I’m from was a lot more cosmopolitan than you probably ever heard people could be in history class. And I did go to art school.” It seemed sometimes as if everyone forgot that part of his background.

“Uh- _huh_ ,” Sam said, and moved closer. “That explains everything. So it’s not going to freak you out if I do this”--he kissed Steve on the cheek, right above the corner of his mouth--“or this?” He touched his hand to the side of Steve’s face and brought it toward his, close enough to kiss.

“Not that much,” Steve answered, and put his mouth on Sam’s, sliding his hands around Sam’s waist. His lips were warm, plush, inviting him further, and as Sam’s hand slid up to the back of Steve’s head, he sighed into the kiss. Something inside him was bright, it filled him with a lightness he hadn’t thought possible in his new life. Like a door opening on to a beautiful spring day after being closed all winter long.

Sam pulled away and grinned at him. “You want your room, or mine? ’Cause believe me, I know how to end a date with more than just dessert.”

Ducking his head and taking a deep breath, Steve said, “I like the sound of that. Your room. It’s got a bigger bed.” He kissed Sam again, running his hands over the muscles in his arms. It felt familiar and yet unknown, the way everything with Sam was.

“Are you dissing my home, my hospitality?” Sam said, but didn’t wait for a reply as he pulled on Steve’s belt and tugged him toward the bedroom.

Steve took a deep breath and allowed himself to be yanked to the bedroom, giving in to the long-forgotten sensation of fear that fluttered in his belly. He didn’t have to be Captain America with Sam; he didn’t have to be anything at all. Sam pushed the door closed with his foot and said, “Come here.” Steve was relieved to not be in charge for once.

 

Clint finished playing Flappy Bird and turned to look at Natasha in the passenger seat. They were parked across the street from Wilson’s place, which Natasha had been watching for the past few minutes. She lowered her thermal imaging binoculars.

“Are we done here?” he asked. “Please say yes.” How was it that he got into these situations? Was this karma for the whole Loki thing?

“Yep,” she said, a cryptic cat-who-ate-the-canary smile on her face as she settled into the seat. “My investment’s paid off.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to **aerye** , whose comment inspired this. I hope I haven't mucked up your wonderful idea too much!
> 
> Reblogs and asks [on Tumblr](http://teatotally.tumblr.com/post/84462077555/new-fic-invested-5028-words-by-gwyneth-rhys-ao3) always welcome!


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